Grow up
by blakcat
Summary: Ignore the title, it sucks: a very angst-ridden, depressive songfic about Hikari, based on 'When I grow up' by Garbage[rating: language (what there is of it; general nastiness]


A/N: nasty. Just an idea... its mainly random, and _very_ angsty................. Its probably not so really very original? But its something I had to get out of my system. First songfic, first (finished) digimon fic... (ie dont judge it too cruelly) Enjoy (?) and review... please? Even if to tell me how completely crap it is?

  
  


Disclaimer: Digimon not mine. Much as I wish Ken was, he isn't either. They all belong to Toei and Saban.... or something like that. The idea is mine, and should you steal it, I shall place a raging tokomon in your pants (like you'd want to steal it anyway?). The song 'When I Grow Up' belongs to Garbage, and so on with the madness...

  
  


  
  


Cut my tongue out,

I've been caught out

like a giant juggernaut.

Happy hours,

golden showers

on a cruise to freak you out.

  
  


Hikari leant over the sink, and reached _behind_ the mirror into her little cubbyspace she was pretty sure They didn't know anything about. She was going to have to be careful: it had taken her a look time to obtain even a small knife that was just sharp enough. They didn't seem to like sharp edges here. She smiled grimly, and slipped up her sleeves, setting the point of the blade to the small pulsing in her wrist...

  
  


We could fly our helicopter

nothing left to talk about

entertain you

celebrate you

I'll be back to frame you.

When I grow up

I'll be stable

When I grow up

I'll turn the tables.

  
  


Taichi had come to 'visit' a couple of days ago, dragged behind their parents. He had been very uncomfortable, and hadn't even tried to hide his nervousness. She'd been upgraded to a higher security level a few days before their visit, maybe a week ago, and having to see her in one of the notorious 'rubber' rooms had disturbed her parents. They'd tried to hid it, and well, but Ken had taught her well. The little room very carefully had no edges or real corners – and all in gentle shades of blue, green, and the ever present white. They were supposedly meant to "soothe the beast within", or so the 'Doctor' said, but all they did was make her feel sick.

  
  


Trying hard to

fit among you

floating out to wonderland.

Unprotected

god I'm pregnant

damn the consequences.

  
  


She was pretty sure she knew why she was regularly being sick in the morning, as well as craving weird foods that her 'Doctor' hadn't even heard of. Perhaps that week with Ken before They took her away hadn't been such a good idea. She'd been stoned (and probably drunk) for most of that week. She couldn't remember details – maybe if she hadn't been so completely out of it when They came she could have put up more of a fight.

  
  


When I grow up

I'll be stable

When I grow up

I'll turn the tables.

  
  


Takeru and Yamato had come to visit her. Once. About six weeks ago, shortly after They'd locked her in. Her 'state' (back then They practically had to shackle her to the walls to keep her from clawing the 'Doctor's' eyes out) had scared Takeru especially. Yamato had been moderately stoned, and not many things were disturbing him. She'd scared Takeru good though, and the two brothers hadn't stayed long, nor had they ever returned. The bottle of vodka and the joints Yamato had managed to smuggle in had been a nice gift – she'd made sure they lasted as long as possible, without being found out.

  
  


Blood and blisters

on my fingers

chaos rules when we're apart

watch my temper

I go mental

I'll try to be gentle.

  
  


She'd told the 'Doctor' that she wanted Ken to be there at the birth of his child. He'd gone mildly spastic when she mentioned it, calmly. He'd hidden it well, and it hadn't lasted long. When he told her that obviously, in one so young (she'd thought: young? I'm practically 16, old man.) the only solution was an abortion, she'd gotten mildly hysterical. OK, insanely hysterical. If it weren't for the security guard They stationed by the door for all of her 'consultations' she could have gotten the fucker, and good. She'd drawn blood though, before muscle man pulled her off, and none too gently. She had huge bruises from his fingers down her thin pale arms.

  
  


When I grow up

I'll be stable

When I grow up

I'll turn the tables.

When I grow up

When I grow up

When I grow up

I'll turn the tables.

  
  


She stood poised, near the edge of the roof. They didn't know she'd found a way to get up here. They'd told her that her abortion would be tomorrow morning, early, before her shots. The one They'd sent in to tell her had been yet another of Their muscle bound idiots. She'd screamed a little, token fuss so They didn't suspect anything. They weren't going to get her baby. Ken's baby.

  
  


Don't take offence,

better make amends

rip it up to shreds and let it go

Don't take offence,

better make amends

rip it up to shreds and let it go

  
  


rip it up to shreds and let it go

rip it up to shreds and let it go

rip it up to shreds and let it go

  
  


She run the knife down her thin arms once more, and turned to face the edge. "I'm sorry Ken. I failed you," she whispered.

And then she fell.

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


{Scary? Review? Please?}

_blakcat 2001_


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